Angel's Heart
by AgathaKillian
Summary: When she was five years old, Claire Novak's father left, and she never saw him again. More than twenty years later, she's an overworked nurse trying to survive the night shift when a strange girl called Deanna Allen shows up, saves her from a demon, and introduces herself as Claire's "new guardian angel" (Further explanations inside).
1. Chapter 1

**I've had this idea on my head, for some time now, to write about what happened to Jimmy's family after he left. It started like that, and then it turned into... this. This story is set around twenty years after season 8, there are many OCs and some SPN's characters, version twenty-years-later. I'll try not to twist the canon very much, but this is pretty much an original story set in the Supernatural universe.**

**About Deanna's identity... I don't want to spoil my own stuff, but I guess it can be deduced easily.**

**Please enjoy.**

* * *

World-shattering events don't necessarily announce themselves loudly and clearly. They're not always storms or hurricanes that obliterate everything on their way. They don't come with fireworks and flags and parades. They don't kick down your door and scream: "Hello, I am here now, and your life will never be the same again!"

Sometimes, they can be very subtle. Sometimes your mother sends you to your room earlier than usual because she needs to speak with your dad alone. Sometimes your dad steps out the door, puts on his overcoat and leaves without looking back. Sometimes a girl you've never seen before smirks at you like she knows something you don't.

When you look back, you can pinpoint the exact moment your world gave a 180 degrees turn. You think "I should have known!", and you get frustrated and mad at yourself, because now it seems as obvious as a punch in the face.

But when it happens, when the world-shattering event is introduced in your life, you have no way to know. The ground might still feel firm underneath your feet, but a million little cracks appear, and all you can do is stare in impotence as they grow and grow, and everything you thought safe and certain begins to crumble, and before you realize, you're standing amongst the debris, wondering what the hell did just happen.

The day my world shattered, I was simply too exhausted to notice.

I was working extra hours, partly because I needed the money, partly because taking the night shift was an excellent excuse to hang up the phone on my mom when I just got too tired to listen to what she had to say.

"But why won't you come?" she asked for what seemed like the millionth time. "I was really hoping to introduce you to Mrs. Eldrigde nephew at the birthday party..."

I sighed. Ever since I came out of college, my mother had been trying to set me up with whatever bachelor she thought suitable to marry her one and only daughter. I had no doubt Mrs. Eldrigde's nephew was as good as the next guy, but I just was not interested in dating him, or anyone, for that matter.

I had explained this to my mother more times than I could count, but she simply didn't understand why a twenty-seven year old attractive nurse wouldn't like to complete her life with a trophy husband. Any attempt at telling her that I didn't exactly believe marriage would make me any happier ended in full blown argument we obligatory had at least once a month.

So instead of getting into that dead alley again, I decided to avoid the topic altogether.

"Look, Mom, I really have to go," I said. "I'll call you tomorrow night, alright?"

"Oh, alright then," Mom said, resigned. "But I don't like that you keep taking these night shifts. For how long will your partners need you to cover for them?"

_Until my womb dries out and you stop pestering me about getting married and filling your house with grandchildren_, I was tempted to say, but instead I just wished her goodnight, tied my hair in a ponytail and left to spend the night covered in blood and vomit, because that was easier than having a conversation with my mother about my life choices.

Don't get me wrong, I loved her. After my father left, she took on the hardships of being a single mom without batting a eyelash. She always did what was best for me, and I was thankful for it. The problem was, now that I have grown, we didn't always agree on what was best for me.

"Hey, Claire!" Anita, another one of the nurses, greeted me when she found me in the locker room. She was taking off her scrubs at the same time I put on mine. "Why are you here?"

"I work here," I reminded her.

"I know. I mean, what are you doing here tonight?" Anita asked. "Isn't this the third time you take the night shift this week?"

Anita was the kind of person who knew everything that went on at the hospital. Whether it was the comings and goings of the staff, the juiciest gossip, or the flavor of the jelly they were serving that day at the cafeteria, you could count on Anita to know every single detail about it.

"It is," I admitted. "But if I'm going to spend Friday night alone anyway, I might as well be here lending a hand instead of watching reruns of Doctor Who at my apartment."

"Mmh, girl, we need to get you a man," Anita said, giving me a friendly poke and a wink before turning to the mirror on her locker to apply mascara on her long eyelashes.

"Talk to my mom, she is dead set on doing so," I joked. "Maybe between the two of you, you can find someone I like."

"We might just do that," Anita laughed. "After all, you're too busy saving the world."

I opened my mouth to reply, but froze. Anita turned to look at me with a confused expression in her face.

"What?" she asked me.

"Your...your eyes," I stuttered. She grinned at me, satisfied.

"You like them? It's a new brand," she said, waving the mascara at me. "I need to look my best, Jason is taking me to dinner!"

"That's awesome," I said, trying to overcome my apprehension. "Have a great time!"

Anita smiled at me one last time and left. I stood there a moment, catching back my breath, convincing myself what I had seen was a weird effect of the lights.

For a second, I thought Anita's eyes had seemed completely black.

* * *

I couldn't explain why that goddamn optic illusion had shaken me so badly. It was like when you see someone on the street (someone you don't find particularly pleasant) but you can't recall the details of their face or why exactly you dislike that person. Yet, you still feel an irrational urge to cross the street to avoid them.

I didn't have much time to dwell on it, though, because my shift at the ER started and the whole night melt away between bloodied bandages, complaining patients and the spicy smell of disinfectant. At first, it was just the usual procession of minor injuries and afflictions (a deep cut here, a little sprain there); many of which I could patch up myself without having to call for help.

But exactly around midnight there was a car crash, and we spent some very distressing minutes trying to revive the driver. Then we had broken bones, drunken frat boys who almost choked on their own vomit and a middle-aged obese man who tried to get up of bed for an early breakfast and suffered a cardiac arrest. Before I realized it, it was four o'clock in the morning and I was on my third cup of coffee. My feet were killing me, my ponytail had come undone, and I'd had to take a break to change my scrub at least twice.

"How you holding up, Novak?" asked me Dr. Lauper, the resident, when he saw me standing next to the coffee maker with a cup in my hand.

"I've seen worse," I said, shrugging. It was true: for a Friday night, the ER had been practically calm.

"Good, that's good," he yawned, and rubbed his hand on his face. His three-day beard and deep circles under his eyes showed that he too had been taking too many night shifts. "I'm just thinking about taking the weekend off."

"Oh, really?" I asked. "Any big plans?"

"Nah… just, you know, the usual," and motioned his hands like I was supposed to know what was 'the usual'. I nodded and finished my coffee, ready to go back for another round. "Maybe you can come with me to do… the usual," he added with a giggle while we walked back to the row of stretchers with patients awaiting our attention.

I gave him what I hope was an uncommitted smile. "Maybe," I said.

I turned to look at the next bed, but then I caught a glimpse of something so odd I couldn't help but to look back at Lauper with a startle.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said. "I'm just more tired than I thought."

It was either that, or the light was playing tricks on me again: I thought I saw Lauper's eyes go entirely black, just like Anita's had earlier. But of course that couldn't be, so I just shook my head and put all my attention on the patient. She was a girl barely out of her teens, who stared at the back of Lauper's head with her sparkling blue eyes wide open.

I couldn't help but to grin. Lauper had that effect on practically every member of the female population who crossed his path. I had crashed on him too, for like, two seconds, before imagining the non-stopping pressure I'd had to endure if my mother knew I was dating a doctor.

I cleared my throat to make her look at me again.

"So… Mrs…?"

"Allen," she said. She smiled at me, a big, friendly smile, like we were old acquaintances who hadn't seen each other in a while. "I'm Deanna Allen."

She was scanning me blatantly, so I thought I might as well do the same. She didn't look injured or particularly sick, maybe a little bit pale, but that could be because of the strident pink strands that decorated her dark hair. I noticed she was wearing a long black overcoat that was at least a size too big for her. For some reason, that reminded me of my father. I pushed those thoughts at the back of my head. I must have been really tired.

"What's brings to the Emergency Room tonight, Deanna?" I asked, trying to sound jovial.

"Well, I got a little scratch," she explained. "I tried to sew it, but I don't think I did it right."

"Let's take a look," I said.

Without taking off her coat, she pulled her shirt up to show me the right side of her abdomen.

Let me tell you something. There aren't many things that might impress me or make me look away in disgust. It's a job requirement that you don't get dizzy or grossed out by things like blood or urine or any other bodily fluid you have daily contact with when you're a nurse. Working at the E.R., I had seen some pretty gory stuff and was pretty sure I knew most of the creative ways people have to get themselves hurt.

So I couldn't tell you why I was so particularly shocked by Deanna's wound. It wasn't a scratch, and certainly it wasn't little: it was a long, deep cut that went all the way from her navel to practically her back. She had been given some very irregular stitches, like whoever did it couldn't quite get the angle right or, as I suspected was the case, had been in too much pain to do it properly.

But that wasn't what disturbed me. As I said, I had seen worse. No, the thing that sent a shiver down my spine was that in that little patch of skin that she was showing me, there were several thin, embossed scars of similar length that intertwined, like roads on a map, revealing this wasn't the first time Deanna had been harmed in that manner.

It took me two seconds too long to react, because she noticed my shock, and quickly covered her wound again and stood up.

"Wait…" I tried to say, thinking that she might try to flee and then I wouldn't be able to help her. But instead, she grabbed my wrist and talked to me in a hurried whisper.

"The handsome doctor from before is coming this way," she said.

"La-Lauper?"

"Yes. What do you to self-harming patients?" she asked. I swallowed loudly.

"I… I would have to escort you to the psychiatric ward," I explained, calmly.

"Good. Let's do that. Now."

Her voice had becoming authoritarian, and even though she was several inches shorter than me, she was the one who dragged me out of the ER and into the hospital wing, all the time muttering to herself things I could barely understand.

"How the hell did they find you before I did? I told Manny we should have just approached you in the street without this whole goddamn circus…"

"W-What?" I managed to ask, and realized we were going in the wrong direction. "That's… that's the cafeteria."

"I know," Deanna said. "I need salt."

"What for?" I asked, more and more confused by the second.

"For the demons, of course," she answered, as she led me through the doors briskly.

If I wasn't convinced that I needed to get Deanna to the psychiatric ward as soon as possible, that did the trick. I halted while she walked around the tables gathering as many salt shakers as she could fit in her arms.

"Sure, the demons," I said. "So… are these demons like… inside your head?"

"Nope," she answered me, as she agitated one of the shakers next to her ear, as if to see if it had any salt left. "But they're in your friends' head. There are at least two in the building," she added, taking off a cell phone from one of her overcoat's pocket and texting something quickly. "And it's about to get ugly, so I suggest you do everything I say, and save your questions for later."

"Okay," I said, taking a step backwards. "Look, Dee… can I call you Dee?"

"No, you can't," she said, and looked up. All her body tensed at once, and when I turned, I realized we weren't alone anymore: Lauper had followed us.

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

"Yes," Deanna said, and smiled again, wide and openly. That smile of pure joy was even more terrifying than the cut and the delirious behavior. "We're just hunting demons."

"You hadn't seen any demons around, have you, doctor?" I asked, trying to transmit him with my eyes that we should follow Deanna's game until we could lead her somewhere safe.

"Actually, I think I just saw one," Lauper said, luckily getting my message. "If you would come with me…"

"Alright," Deanna said, and walked towards him, with a shaker still in her hand.

"That's it," Lauper said, in a tranquilizing tone. "We'll get this demon together, okay?"

What happened next was almost too fast for me to see. Deanna raised her hand, and with one fluid movement, she stomped her fist right into Lauper's nose. He let out a whimper of discomfort and tried to grab Deanna's arm, but she threw the shaker at him, covering him in a rain of salt. Lauper let out the most blood curling shriek, like she had thrown boiling water or acid instead of salt at his face, and when he raised his head towards us, there was no trick in the lights, there was no optical illusion: his eyes had gone pitch black.

"You little bitch!" he shouted, in a voice so unlike his own I had trouble recognizing it.

He tried to grab Deanna again, but she was faster. She kicked him in the shin, hard enough to bring him to his knees, and yanked his head backwards by the hair with one hand. With the other one, she emptied a second salt shaker into his mouth, holding him firmly and ignoring the suffocated noises of pain he was still making. After that, she gave him a couple of good punches to knock him, and threw him on the floor, covered in blood and salt.

"Quickly, draw a circle around him!" she instructed, as she pushed a table against the doors so nobody could open them (as they'd certainly try to, since the whole hospital could have heard him scream).

"With what?" I asked, astonished.

"With the salt, of course!" she said, as she took more salt shakers and started to spill their content, surrounding the unconscious Lauper with even more salt.

After a moment or two, I finally started to react. I grabbed the shakers and followed her example. By the time Lauper moved, there was salt all around him. And his eyes were still as black as a moonless night when they gazed upon us.

And then the most horrible thing happened: he smiled.

"Well, well, girls… you got yourselves a demon," he giggled.

Instead of answering, Deanna started mumbling a hasty litany of words in a foreign language. I couldn't be sure, but I thought it was Latin.

"Is this how you'll get your kicks now, Claire?" he asked, with a cold laughter. "Opened up men and women weren't good enough for you?"

"… _vade, Satana, inventor et magister omni fallacie…_" was saying Deanna, raising her tone as if to drown his words. He groaned, like he was in pain, but that didn't stop him from speaking.

"Oh, but your Daddy would be so proud of you, if he could see you now!" he mocked me.

If he had slapped me in the face, the effect wouldn't have been so appalling.

"What do you know about my father?" I asked, and I was surprised at how high-pitch and desperate my voice sounded. I realized I was at the verge of tears.

"… _invocato a nobis sancto et ferribili nominae…_" Deanna kept going. Lauper (or the thing that was inside Lauper), cried out again, louder this time.

"You'll find out soon enough!" he said. I suspected he was still trying to taunt me, but the effect was greatly diminished by the obvious suffering he was going through.

"… _te rogamos, audi nos!_" Deanna exclaimed, and Lauper opened his mouth so wide I thought his jaw might have been dislocated. A thick, black smoke came out of, carrying a reek of rotten eggs that lingered in the air long after the smoke vanished, and Lauper's body fell limp inside the circle of salt. Deanna kneeled next to him and searched for the pulse in his neck. "He's alive. Okay, let's go!" she said, searching something inside the pockets of her coat.

"Wait!" I exclaimed, hysterical. "What the hell just happened? Where are we going? Is that a dagger?!" I couldn't help but screaming when I saw the sharp, silver weapon she had in her hand.

"The technical term is 'angel blade'," she said, grabbing my wrist again and leading me towards the kitchen's door. "I assume you don't have the key for this, do you?" she asked. I nodded, although all my body felt rigid. She clicked her tongue… and then simply kicked the locked door open.

"How did you do that?!" I asked, while she led me towards the emergency exit. "Who are you?!"

"It's a long story," she shrugged, but I couldn't help to notice she was smiling again. "For now, let's just say I'm your new guardian angel."


	2. Chapter 2

This was a nightmare. It had to be.

Deanna managed to drag me halfway through the parking lot before my shaking legs gave in, and the only reason I didn't end up kissing the pavement was because she held me.

"Wait up…" I panted. There was a weird pressing sensation in my chest, and everything around me was spinning madly. "Just… just hold…"

"Look, you can freak out when we're somewhere safe," she told me, irritated, still pulling my arm to try to move me.

"Please, just… wait…" I said, bending down, because my throat was burning and I was pretty sure I was going to vomit.

"We don't have time for this!" she exclaimed.

And then, she – that strange girl with pink strands in her hair and a oversized trench coat, that girl who was at least a head shorter than me and so dam thin she looked like she might break if you didn't treat her gently – she lifted me, carried me the rest of the way to my car and threw me in the backseat, _without any apparent effort._

That's when I convinced myself that I had to be dreaming. This just couldn't be real.

I barely registered Deanna had started my car, even though I hadn't given her the keys, and was speeding down an empty street.

"Where… where are you taking me?" I asked, watching the buildings pass us by at an unnerving velocity.

"Claire, this is not the moment," she hushed me. "You're gonna have to trust me."

"Trust you? I don't even know who you are!" I screamed.

"I told you, I'm your new guardian angel," she said, calmly. "You can trust your guardian angel, right? I mean, I did just save you from a demon."

"You…" I started, and had to stop because the gagging sensation returned. I stayed quiet and as still as I could while the urge to spill everything that was in my stomach peaked, and then decreased. "That… that was a demon?" I asked, when I finally dared open my mouth again.

"What did you think it was? A bad case of indigestion?" she asked. "Like the one you're having right now?"

I was going to argue that it wasn't indigestion, that I was having a freaking panic attack, which was the reaction any normal person would have when confronted with a goddamn demon, but I had the feeling Deanna wouldn't care about the difference. Instead, I put my head between my legs and waited for the nausea to go away.

"If you're an angel, where are your wings and your halo?" I asked. It was the stupidest question of the million ones that were running in my head, but the certainty that I was dreaming had become firmer, and I felt I had the right to demand my subconscious to at least keep the details straight.

"Lost my wings," she said. "It's a long story. But I do have a halo; you just can't see it."

"Right," I muttered, and put my head down again.

A few minutes later – although it felt like eons to me – the car came to a screeching halt. I looked up, and was surprised to find we were right in front of my building.

"We're home," I said, when Deanna opened the door and helped me out.

"Where else could I have taken you?"

"How did you know where I live?" I asked, as she led me to the door.

"I'm your guardian angel, Claire," she repeated. "I have to know this kind of stuff."

After that, I completely surrendered to the idea that this was all just a weird dream. The alternative was too insane for me to accept it.

* * *

The door of my apartment was hanging loose from the hinges, and by the glimpse I caught before Deanna grabbed my arm and pulled me back, everything inside was a mess.

"W-What happened?" I asked.

"Nothing good," she said, pulling out her angel blade again. "Stay behind me."

She walked into my place, with stealthy steps; all the time holding an arm against my chest so I wouldn't move pass her. With a fluid movement, she turned on the lights and I couldn't contain a whimper of horror. My books were all on the floor, my curtains were torn, the couch was upside down and the TV lied on the carpet among a bunch of shattered glass. It looked like someone had a furious fight against my furniture, and the furniture had lost. Who would do something like that? Why me?!

"Claire!" a strangled voice called. I recognized it immediately.

"Anita?"

"Claire, help me, please! He's going to kill me!" my friend shouted. She sounded terrified.

"Anita, hold on!" I answered, and before Deanna could stop me, I ran into my bedroom.

Anita was kneeling, with a bleeding cut in her forehead and a frightened expression, staring at a tall man standing menacingly in front of her.

"Claire, help!" Anita screamed again, and I tried to take step forward, but Deanna's iron grip stopped me.

"_Cristo_," she said. Anita turned her head violently like Deanna had just slapped her. When she looked back at us, her eyes had gone black. "Did you really think that was going to work?" Deanna asked.

"It was worth the shot," said Anita. There was no trace of fear in her voice anymore, and her demeanor had turned into a mocking defiance as she stood. "Well, you got me, angels. Must admit I wasn't expecting the Devil's Trap."

"What Devil's Trap?" Deanna asked, frowning. The man leaned and removed the carpet (which two minutes ago, I could have sworn it was firmly nailed to floor), revealing part of a red circle with strange symbols I didn't recognize. Deanna looked impressed. "Nice touch, Manny."

"This is not my doing," the man said, calmly. "It was already there before either the demon or I walked in."

"Well, that's weird," Deanna said. "Lucky weird, though. By the mess out there, I'd say you had troubles dealing with this one. You're growing old, Manny."

"I cannot grow old, Deanna, you know that," the man, whose name, apparently, was Manny, replied. "She took me by surprise."

It was hard to tell, because his voice was strangely monotonous and his expression was completely neutral, but I thought he sounded a bit offended at the insinuation he couldn't handle a demon. I started hoping I would wake up soon, because this dream had grown absolutely out of control.

"As fascinating as this angel small talk is," Anita (or the demon inside Anita) chimed in, "I think I better leave you to it…"

"Oh, no way!" Deanna said, pointing her with the angel blade. "You're going to tell us exactly who and why they sent you here."

"I know nothing," the demon said. "All they told me was to come here and take the blondie. Preferably without hurting her," she stopped and put on a big grin directing at me, "much," she finished.

"Well, in that case…" Deanna said.

As if he was responding to a signal, Manny took a step towards the demon and put his hand on her head. She screamed, and a thick black smoke came out of her mouth, just like it'd happened earlier with Lauper. Manny caught Anita's unconscious body, and very delicately, he deposited her in my bed.

"Oh, God, Anita!" I finally reacted and walked towards her. "Is she alright?"

"She should sleep now," Manny said. "She won't remember anything when she wakes up."

I moved her hair to take a look at the cut in her forehead, but it was gone, like it'd never been there at all. I wasn't surprised, though. The dream just seemed to be getting crazier by the second.

"Claire Novak," Manny grabbed my hand as he pronounced my name. "You needn't worry about your friend."

I looked at him closely for the first time. The first impression I had was that he was old, very old. Which made no sense, because he looked every bit like a twenty-something year old man, with sandy hair and a brown wool vest, maybe a man you might find with his nose buried in a books in a coffee shop, someone that might go completely unnoticed if you weren't paying attention. But if you looked closely, there was something ethereal about his expression; something that made him seemed ageless and ancient at the same time.

I shivered.

"You must be wondering why we had come to you," he said. His voice was soft and reassuring. "Don't be scared. We will protect you, and I will explain everything."

"Yeah, well, you'll have to explain while we move," Deanna interrupted. "If Hell's Squad is closing in on us, we should get out of here. Like, five minutes ago."

"You should start putting sigils on the apartment, then, Deanna," Manny said, without taking his disturbingly big green eyes of me. Deanna clicked her tongue in protest, but left the room without further complaints. "Would you like a hot beverage?" Manny asked me. "I understand that is a soothing thing for humans who are in an extreme state of shock."

"I'm… I'm not in…" I stuttered, but my knees were trembling again, and my thoughts were all in disarray.

Not from just seeing two of my friends being possessed by demons, not for discovering there were strange symbols engraved in my bedroom floor. No, what caused me to shake and cower was Manny: he seemed infinitely calm and wise, yet, I could perceive something incredibly dangerous, just beneath the surface, like a distant storm brewing above the seas. He just radiated power.

While I still had my doubts about Deanna, I could come to believe this man was something supernatural.

"Come on," he said, softly guiding me towards the kitchen. "We have a lot to talk about."

He helped me sat at the counter, and I observed, disheartened, the disaster the demon had left in my living room. And on top of it, Deanna had somehow produced a spray can and was drawing strange symbols on the walls and the door; which I assumed she had put back in its place with her superhuman strength.

"Where did you get that?" I asked pointing at the can.

"I always have it with me," she shrugged, and made it disappear inside her trench coat. "Oh, Manny, no!" she added when she saw him with the teapot in his hand. "You stay away from that thing!"

"I'm an angel of the Lord," he said, and yes, this time there was no doubt he sounded offended. "I believe I can make a cup of tea without any further trouble."

"You and I both know that's not true," Deanna replied, walking towards us and taking the teapot away from him. "And tea? Really? Who the fuck drinks tea? No, what she needs is hot cocoa. Let me handle this. You... explain whatever is it that you need to explain."

And with that, she turned her back on us and started raiding my cupboards. I massaged my temples.

"You two are very strange angels," I said.

"I admit I am in a rather unusual position," Manny sighed. "And as for Deanna... well, you certainly must have noticed she's not truly an angel."

"You're not?" I asked.

"I'm angel...ish" she said, while she took the milk out of the fridge. Manny shot her a severe look, and she rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine, I lied. Sorry."

"What are you, then?" I asked.

"That is not important," Manny avoided the question. "What matters here is what you are, Claire. The reason we need you... and the reason the demons are looking for you."

"I'm not sure I follow," I said. I felt the beginning of what promised to be an epic headache growing behind my eyebrows. "Seriously... I need to wake up now."

"You're not dreaming, Claire," Manny affirmed. "This is really happening. It shouldn't come as such a shock to you that angels and demons are real, given what your father was."

That startled me. It was the second time that night I heard my father being mentioned, and the third time I was reminded of him. That was way above the times a year I spared a thought for him.

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused. "What does my dad have to do with anything?"

"You mean you don't know?" Manny frowned. He seemed exasperated. "Claire, your father..."

"He was a very sick man," I cut him off, slightly irritated. "He suffered from delusions, and he refused to get any treatment."

"No," Manny shook his head. "No, those were not delusions. He was really being called for a higher purpose."

"Right," I said, starting to get mad. "Now you're going to tell me the reason he left me and my mom was because Heaven wanted him to."

The microwave beeped at the same time Deanna snickered.

"Oh, boy," she said, placing a smoking cup next to me. "You _are_ gonna need this."

"That was… an unfortunate downside," Manny said. "James Novak's ever-present intention was to return to his family."

"Hold on," I stopped him. "What…? You met my dad?"

"No, but I have met other angels who had dealings with him," Manny said. "I am told the only demand he made before accepting his mission was for Heaven to keep his family safe. It was supposed to be a temporary dealing, but… circumstances changed. And now we need you to fill his place."

I stared at him in utter disbelief for a second.

"Oh, my God, I'm going crazy too," I concluded. If it wasn't a dream, that was the only other possible explanation.

"Yeah, you might need something a little stronger than this," Deanna reflected, looking at the cup. "Do you have any alcohol?"

"You are not going insane, Claire," Manny said, with endless patience. "And she does not need to be intoxicated," he added, with another stern look at Deanna. "We need her to be fully aware of the consequences of accepting this mission."

"Wait, what… what is this mission you keep talking about?" I asked. "I'm just human! You guys are angels! You can lift incredible weighs; you can expel demons out of people. What do you need me for?"

"Not you, exactly, just your body," Deanna said nonchalantly.

"What?"

"Those aren't the words I would have chosen, Deanna," Manny mumbled. Deanna was definitely started to get on his nerves, but she didn't look too concerned about it.

"Well, that's the simplest explanation, isn't it?" she shrugged. "Your father was a vessel, you are a vessel too. They need you to be all vessel-y for this one special needs angel who didn't get a vessel during the Mighty Fall."

"What?" I said again. None of that made any sense.

"That is one way to put it," Manny sighed, resigned.

"No, no, no way," I closed my eyes and shook my head. "This… this is just… not happening. It can't be. I'm having a very weird hallucination because I've worked too much. I… I need to get some sleep."

"Claire Novak," Manny called. His tone was deeper and more authoritarian now. "Look at me!"

I trembled, and forced myself to obey him. Manny had taken a step backwards, and he no longer look like someone you might pass by on a busy street. In fact, he barely looked human. He had gotten taller, bigger, and his features were illuminated with an unnatural white light that hurt my eyes. When he spoke, his voice resonated around the entire apartment.

"I am Manakel, Angel of Oceans," he said. He wasn't screaming, but the window glass reverberated, and the cup over the counter clattered. "I am not a hallucination or a dream. I am a messenger of God. I have been entrusted with the mission of protecting you until you're ready to fulfill your role as a vessel. Do you believe me?"

The distant storm I had seen brewing in his eyes had reached a breaking point, and suddenly I was no longer hesitant about his nature. He was beautifully dangerous, overwhelmingly fearsome, and intolerably _real._

"Yes…" I said, and my voice sounded broken and weak compared to his. "Yes, I… I believe you…"

As abruptly as it had come, the white light disappeared. I blinked several times. My eyes were full of tears, and for a horrible moment, everything around me seemed blurry and I was certain I had gone blind. When I could finally focus on something again, it was Deanna's satisfied smile.

"It's so cool when he does that, isn't it?" she said calmly. She was completely unaffected by what we'd just witnessed. "Okay, that settles it, then!" she added, taking my hot cocoa and drinking it up in one long gulp. "We're going!"

"G-going?" I repeated, still rather strained. "Going where?"

"Pontiac, Illinois," she announced, and I jumped at the name of my hometown. "We know that you are a vessel, but we still have to find who the lucky wavelength of celestial intent that gets to wear your sexy meat suit is."

"What?" I asked, for what felt like the millionth time.

"Road trip, Blondie!" Deanna said. "Wake up! You look like you've just seen an angel!"

* * *

**Oh, God, two weeks. I'm so sorry to everyone interested in this, I promise future updates will not take that long. Thank you for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

"I need to call my mother…"

"Why? You're gonna see her in four or five days."

"The hospital… my job…"

"Everything is taken care of, Claire. There is no need to worry."

It wasn't until we passed a big sign that read '_You're now leaving Portland. Have a nice trip' _that I realized this was actually happening. The sensation of unreality came to me once again.

"Why do we need to get my mom involved?" I asked. I loved my mother, but she was never the best in handling desperate situations.

"Your mother may know things we ignore about your condition as a vessel," Manakel answered simply from the passenger seat.

"But…"

"You know, Blondie, you've been up all night," Deanna said, without taking her eyes of the route. "You should try and get some sleep."

"I'm not tired," I said, but it wasn't true. The rush of adrenaline that came with being kidnapped by two angelic beings was wearing off, and my eyelids felt heavy. I put my head against the window glass, and stared at the red lines in the horizon over the Columbia River. It was going to be a sunny day at my adoptive city, but I wouldn't be there to see it.

"Just sleep, Claire," came Manakel's voice, like a distant whisper. He said something else, but I didn't listen. I was drifting off already, and before the sun had risen, I was snoring on the backseat of my car.

* * *

I must have been exhausted, because when I woke up again, we were stopping at the parking lot of a motel in the middle of nowhere, and it was night again. I was starving, my neck hurt and I needed to go to the bathroom desperately.

"Come on," Manakel, who seemed to know exactly how I was feeling, led me into the motel. "Deanna will be back with the dinner soon."

I just nodded, and barely noticed there were only two beds in the room they'd rented before I locked myself in the bathroom with my bag and washed myself up a little. I stared into the mirror. I had big violet circles under my eyes, and I was a little paler than usual. I still hadn't got over the sensation this was the craziest dream I ever had, but a few impressions were finally starting to sink in.

First and foremost, there was no way out of this. I had seen what Manakel and Deanna could do; I was pretty sure if I tried to escape or ask for help they would catch me without any effort. On the other hand, I didn't think they were going to hurt me, or they would have already.

Then there was the fact that they were angels, and they needed my help.

Many of the early memories I had involved holding my dad's hand while he said blessings on the table. He was very firm about it, and would frown at me if I try to eat before he had done so. We would pray together at night before he tucked me into bed, and on Sunday's, mom would help me put on the prettiest dress I had, and the three of us would go to church together.

"God is watching over us," my father used to say. "He loves us all, for we are His children. He keeps us safe, and we are to thank Him for everything He gives us. And if you are ever sad or in trouble, He will help you if ask Him to."

What a wonderful idea, a God that was pure love and kindness. I remembered looking at the big cross behind the altar with reverence, and kneeling in front of it to ask God to look out for my family, so we could always be together like we were then.

God had other plans, apparently.

A knock on the door brought me back to the present. I wiped the tears that had gathered in my eyes, and came out of the bathroom.

Deanna was juggling with several paper bags, while Manakel looked out the window, with no intention of helping her. She shot an annoyed look at him.

"You mind?" she asked him.

"Why? You know I don't eat," Manakel shrugged. Deanna stumbled, her arms so full of bags they were obstructing her view.

"Here," I offered, stepping forward and taking some of the bags.

"Thanks, Blondie," she said, as I helped her lay the paper bags on the table. "Okay… _bon appetite_."

And without any further ceremony, she opened one of the bags and took out the nastiest, biggest hamburger I've ever seen. I mean, could it even be called _a_ hamburger if it had at least four beef medallions? Deanna opened her mouth wide and took a chunk out of it. She caught the melting cheese dripping down the side of her mouth and sucked it from her fingers with an expression of supreme delight on her face. And then she proceeded to shove the rest of the burger down her throat like she had something personal against it. I had never seen anyone eat that fast.

"You should have one too," she said, between bites. "They're really good."

I opened the bags, disheartened. They were all burgers of more or less the same size.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm… I'm a vegetarian."

The second burger Deanna was about to devour was suspended in the air while she stared at me in pure astonishment.

"Why?" she asked, and she sounded genuinely surprised.

"I prefer to eat healthy," I explained.

"Why?" Deanna repeated, this time looking at me like I was the one who beat demons with one hand and hang out with angels.

"Deanna," Manakel intervened. "You should go back and bring something else for Claire."

"No! Come on!" Deanna protested. "My dinner's gonna get cold!"

"T-That's okay," I said, not wanting them to fight. "I'm not that hungry."

As if to contradict me, my stomach groaned loudly. Manakel frowned at Deanna, who clicked her tongue and searched through the bags.

"You can have the cake," she said, handing me a small box. "There's no meat in the cake."

"I'm sorry, but I'm pretty sure cake for dinner is not adequate meal," Manakel said.

"What do you know? You don't eat," Deanna snapped back.

"It's fine," I interrupted them. "Really, it is. I like cake."

"There you go, she likes cake," Deanna said, and continued to attack the burger she had in her hand.

I found a plastic spoon in the bag, and began to eat my "dinner". Deanna was on her third burger (I never actually noticed the second one disappearing) and Manakel was still next to the window, as immobile and imposing as a marble statue, without looking at neither of us. I felt suddenly guilty: their brief fallout had been my fault, and now they were both obviously in a bad mood.

"So…" I cleared my throat, trying to alleviate the tension. But I completely forgot what I was about to say, because Deanna was unwrapping a fourth burger, and seemed to have no intention to slow down. "Do you… do you usually eat this much?" I asked.

"Hell yeah. Gotta keep these warrior's muscles strong," she said, with her mouth full. Surely, she was joking: for what I've seen, she was mostly skin, bones and a trench coat.

"Deanna's metabolism is faster than humans'," Manakel added. "This, however, does not excuse her awful table manners."

Deanna made a grating noise that could have been an irritated "Bite me" if you paid attention.

"Humans?" I repeated, confused. "You mean you're _not_ human?"

Deanna swallowed. "I'm human…ish."

Before I could ask another question, there was a strong knock on the door. Instantly, Deanna put the burger aside and stood up, her hand reaching inside her trench coat, probably searching for her blade.

"It's alright," Manakel said, and answered the call.

There was a man in a pinstripe suit standing at the doorframe. He wasn't as tall as Manakel, but he seemed so because the angel dropped his shoulders and adopted a more compliant pose. I stood up too. The man's presence just seemed to demand everybody to behave, like a severe professor walking into a classroom or a general inspecting his troops. He exuded the same aura of latent danger than Manakel did.

"Raziel," Manakel greeted him, with profound respect.

Raziel gave him a smile that was barely a twitch of his thin lips, before looking at Deanna, and adopting the expression that someone allergic to dogs would take on when confronted by a mean-spirited Chihuahua.

"I see she's still here," he said.

"I see you're still a jerk," she replied. She was unmoved by the man's obvious authority, although I noticed her free hand stiffened in a fist.

"Deanna has been most useful in this mission," Manakel said, taking a step forwards as it to put himself between them. "She saved the vessel from a demon."

"Is that so?" Raziel said. He didn't sound impress. He stalked passed Deanna, coming directly at me. "So, you are the vessel. What's your name again?"

"I'm… I'm C-Claire Novak, sir," I stuttered, nervously.

Raziel put a hand beneath my chin and made look at him. Just like Manakel, he struck me as being infinitely old, having seen and done things that were beyond anyone's imagination. But there was a subtle difference between the two: while Manakel appeared quiet and serene, like the calm before the storm, Raziel _was_ the storm. His eyes were pitch black, and the hand that held my chin was cold and firm. The power hidden just beneath his skin was terrible and direct, and I was sure he wouldn't hesitate to use it if you crossed him. I found myself wondering where Deanna had gotten the nerve to call him a jerk to his face, because I would be terrified of doing something like that.

"I'm impressed, Manakel," Raziel said. "I didn't think you would find her."

"Then why the hell you sent us to look for her in the first place?" Deanna asked, ignoring Manakel's panicky expression and gestures in a futile attempt at shutting her up. Raziel let go of my face, and turned to Deanna, wrinkling his nose like she was an insect that'd got stuck in his fancy designer shoes.

"I do not have to justify my orders," he muttered, which was ten times more frightening than if he had screamed. "In fact, I do not have to share any of my decisions with you. Manakel, come outside with me."

The two left the room, and Deanna sat down again.

"Is he an angel too?" I asked, although it seemed a bit obvious.

"Raziel, Angel of Assholes," Deanna said, given a discouraged bite to her hamburger. She seemed to have lost her appetite. "He's Manny's superior."

"He looks… strict," I said, choosing my words carefully. Deanna snickered.

"Stalin was strict," she replied. "Raziel is the biggest dick around, and he takes pride on it."

I stared at the rests of my cake, looking for something to say. "I… never thought… I mean, aren't angels supposed to be guardians and such? Not dicks?"

"You haven't met many angels, I take it," Deanna said. The door opened once again, and Manakel entered.

"I am leaving," he announced. He sounded concerned.

"What?!" Deanna exclaimed. "Leaving for where?"

"I am not allowed to give you that information, Deanna," Manakel said, taking a step towards her.

"So what, you're just ditching me with the Blondie?" she asked, pointing me over her shoulder with her thumb.

"I am not _ditching_ you," Manakel said. "You are to meet Bethanael as we've discussed earlier, and she will take Claire the rest of the way to Pontiac."

"And what about me?" Deanna kept asking. Manakel put a hand over her shoulder.

"Deanna, this is very important," he said, a grave tone in his voice. "I have convinced Raziel to trust you with this, so you cannot fail us. Do you understand?"

Deanna was clearly going to protest some more, but she just groaned an unenthusiastic: "Yes."

"Once the mission is complete, I will come to find you," he said. "In the meantime, you are responsible for Claire's well-being. Go straight to Bethanael, no distractions, no shortcuts…"

"Shortcuts will get us there faster," Deanna remarked.

"If you need to stop and rest, put sigils on the doors, and salt in all the entrances," Manakel kept going as if he hadn't heard her. "If demons get wind of you…"

"Yes, Jedi Master, I know," Deanna rolled her eyes ostentatiously. "I can handle this."

Manakel hesitated. He seemed to be about to add something else, but instead, he just nodded in my direction, and turned around to leave.

"Manny," Deanna called him. "Check in tomorrow… if you don't wake up dead."

"Of course, Deanna," Manakel said, in a neutral tone of voice, and closed the door behind him. A few seconds later, we heard a car leaving the driveway.

"Well, that sucks," Deanna muttered, and started to gather all the empty paper bags, the burger's remains and even the cake I hadn't finished eating. Her hunger was definitely gone.

"I'm sorry… what just happened?" I asked, confused.

"You heard it; they kicked us out of this mission," she groaned. She suddenly looked depressed. "I mean, they kicked _me_ out of the mission, like they always do."

"Why?" I asked.

"'Cause I'm a second class angel, that's why," she complained, throwing everything that was on the table on the garbage can.

"I thought you said you were human," I pointed.

She turned around so suddenly her trench coat made a fluttering noise that would have been funny if it weren't for the rage on her face. Her sparkling blue eyes looked pale and lighten up, and she appeared to have gotten a few inches taller. I leaned back on the chair, scared.

"Yes, Blondie, I'm an angel, _and_ a human," she said, in a tone of voice that seemed to permeate the whole room. "I am what happens when a human and an angel love each other _very_ much. Do I need to get any more specific, or does your little brain understand what I mean?"

"N-No," I stammered. "I-I get it."

"Good," she barked, and when she turned her back on me, she recovered her usual size. "You chose your bed. I'm going to salt this place."

"Dee…," I called her. I didn't want her to be mad at me, not when apparently we still had some travel to do together. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Yeah, I get the feeling what you don't know could fill entire libraries," she mumbled. "And don't call me Dee!" she added, before banging the door so loud I was surprised the whole motel didn't wake.

* * *

Since I had snoozed all day in the car, I thought I wouldn't be able to sleep and that I was in for a very awkward night. As luck would have it, I fell asleep at some point while Deanna was making salt lines along the window. I tried to make some polite conversation, but she kept rebuffing me, so I finally went to bed, and told myself for the hundredth time that if this dream was going to end, now would be a good time.

Of course, when another bang on the door woke me, I was still in the same seedy motel, but with a very different Deanna.

"Good morning!" she greeted me with the biggest smile, raising a plastic bag at me. "I got chocolate donuts for breakfast! No meat in them. I asked."

I stared at her, startled, not daring to move from the bed.

"Come, get some caffeine and sugar," she said. "It's the best way to start the day."

I finally gathered the courage to get up, and sat by the table. Deanna slid me another paper cup, and kept taking long gulps from hers.

"Long drive today," she continued. "If we hurry up, we could meet Bethanael before evening. You're gonna love Betty. She has a TARDIS blue motorcycle that is _the_ shit."

"TARDIS blue is not a color," I yawned.

"Yes, it is!" Deanna argued, and then swallowed two donuts without even breathing.

"I see you're a morning person… angel… half angel…" I stumbled with my own words, and gracefully tried to drink my coffee, only to get my lips burned.

"I guess," she shrugged. "I like mornings. Mornings are good." She stuffed another donut in her mouth, and chewed it slowly (slowly for her, at least). "By the way, I'm sorry I snapped at you last night," she said, and that startled me even more. I didn't take Deanna for the kind of individual who apologized.

"It's okay," I offered her a smile (or whatever that could pass for a smile when I had just awoken and still couldn't taste my coffee). "I didn't mean to pry."

"That's fine. You should be prying," she said. "I mean, anybody in your place would probably have thousands of questions."

"I do," I admitted. "I was going to make them, but then Raziel showed up…"

"Yeah, Raziel kills the mood for everything," she said. "Well, you can pry all you want in the car."

She stood up, taking the box of donuts with her, and I had to follow her barefoot because she didn't give me time to get my shoes. Or rather, because she had taken my bag and my shoes into the car already. She started the engine even before I had closed the door and placed my coffee in the cup holder.

"And the correct term is nephillim," she added.

"Excuse me?" I looked at her, confused.

"Ne-phi-llim," she said, accentuating the syllables. "It's what I am. Part human, part angel."

"Nephillim," I repeated, tasting the word. "It… has a nice ring to it."

"Oh, you have no idea," she chuckled, as she steered the wheel, and headed for the long empty road in front of us.

* * *

**Few clarifications: As Rageful Jewel has asked, yes, I did wrote Claire as being some years younger. And there is a reason she doesn't remember the events of "The Rapture", and it's [SPOILERS].**


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